Another life
by epizit
Summary: "I'll see you in another life" he whispered, closing his eyes, his words getting lost in the east wind. Will woke up abruptly, breathing heavily, sheets and nightclothes damp from his sweat. (Crossover/AU)
1. Chapter 1

**Hello everyone! Being today the long awaited day of Hannibal's Season Finale (omgomgomgomgomg) I decided to get to work on something a little different than the usual hannigram fic :) so here it is, a crossover of Hannibal and King Arthur (if you haven't watched the movie yet make sure to check it out!), since our lovely Mads Mikkelsen and Hugh Dancy star in them both :)**

**This chapter is rather introductive (Hannibal doesn't appear yet, he's off cooking someone I guess), so don't be discouraged as there's totally going to be some Hannigram later on ;)**

**Note: I highly recommend the Director's Cut version of the movie, it's longer and more enjoyable than the basic one :)**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.**

**As usual, reviews and critics are much much much appreciated :)**

**Enjoy :D**

He touched with the tips of his fingers the helm hanging over the grave, caressing it lightly, saying his last goodbye.

"I'll see you in another life" he whispered, closing his eyes, his words getting lost in the east wind.

Will woke up abruptly, breathing heavily, sheets and nightclothes damp from his sweat. This was a dream like none he had ever had. No stags, no dead bodies, nothing of such. All he could remember was this enormous crowd, him being a part of it, all standing around a burning pyre and a few burial mounds, the flames dancing in the wind. Everyone in the crowd wasn't muttering a word, keeping a reverential silence, all watching the three figures standing in the circle they had formed, close to the edge of the cliff. Everyone's eyes were concentrated on them, everyone's but his, who couldn't help but stare at the grave with the helm hanging over it, feeling the loss of the friend buried there, grieving it.

He sat up, drying the sweat on his forehead with the back of his hand, the feeling from the dream still lingering under his skin. The led of the alarm clock claimed it was still 4.27am, too early to get up, but even if he felt exhausted he knew he wouldn't be able to fall asleep again.

Will let himself fall again on the mattress, his face buried in his hands, lost in his thoughts. Immediately he pulled the hands back, frowning as he noticed that they were wet. He fingered his cheek again, seeing a drop shining on his fingertips. He hadn't realized he had cried during the dream. That was a first.

He rolled on the side and closed his eyes again, trying to get rid of the dull pain he felt inside.

The next few days his empathic abilities were requested on the field, not leaving him much time to think about the dream at all, let alone having any other, since he didn't manage to get much sleep. In the end the memory of it just slipped away: it was just a dream, a rather strange one to be honest, but nothing worth sweating.

It was late afternoon and, as his lecture ended, Will dismissed the class and started gathering his things, carefully avoiding everyone's eyes even though a few trainees would have loved to spare a few words with this enigmatic, shabby but strangely attractive teacher.

Giving his back to the entrance, he continued rummaging with his stuff, trying to pay attention to every sound, waiting for the silence to come, sign that he was finally alone. When he could finally hear his breaths echoing in the empty lecture hall, he let out an exhausted sigh. He had been feeling tired for days, almost like his mind tended to go somewhere else and he had a hard time keeping it in place, in the present, where he needed it to be, where it was requested to be.

"A-hem." Will turned around at the sound of someone clearing his throat, and saw Alana standing in the entrance, arms crossed, a gentle smile softening her features.

"Hey, Alana" he said, returning to his stuff, suddenly feeling like leaving. Their relationship had been strange lately, after that kiss, with her constantly giving off mixed signals, longing for his company and pushing him away at the same time. On his side, he couldn't blame her for not wanting anything more despite their mutual attraction, with him being so unstable. Will couldn't even manage to get his own life straight, how was he supposed to be in a relationship? That said, he found it easier to just avoid her, finding the situation stressful and very confusing. Still, Alana tried to be as friendly as she could, trying to be of some support to him.

"I overheard some of your female students talking. You seem to be a real lady-killer" she said, walking up to him. He chuckled, finding the mechanisms of social interaction rather amusing: his elusive behavior, born from his discomfort to people's closeness, was somehow perceived as mysterious and fascinating. He didn't mean to be attractive in any way, he acted like that with the genuine purpose of avoiding unnecessary conversations and unrequested proximity.

"Well, if they got to know me they wouldn't find me that interesting" Will said, simply stating what he thought to be the truth.

"I bet on the opposite: if you'd let other people get close, they wouldn't leave you alone anymore." Alana smiled, trying to cheer him on, but only getting a tiny smirk from him, who still didn't look at her.

After a brief silence, as he was done collecting all his belongings, Will couldn't avoid her gaze anymore, so he just faced her, leaning on the edge of his desk. She kept her glance fixed on his face, making him feel a bit uneasy, his frowned expression never leaving his features.

"How have you been lately?" she asked, her concern transpiring in her voice. He sighed, not really wanting to answer that question, knowing that whatever he said would only make her worry more. Taking a moment, he tried to find something to tell her that wouldn't make him sound like some mentally ill, then the thought occurred him.

"I've had a strange dream a few nights ago. No blood, no corpses, no nightmares whatsoever. It was just a normal dream…even if a strange one."

"I guess it's a good change, for once. Don't you think?" Alana looked at him, sounding encouraging, trying to get a smile from him. Will just nodded, looking at his feet, pondering if it would have been better to talk this matter with Doctor Lecter instead of her, given her tendency to act deliberately cautious with him, being overprotective and not really objective.

"Is this your happy face?" she asked after a while, poking him with a playful smile.

_Is this your happy face?_

What was that? Will stared hard at her, eyes wide, startled, not knowing where that voice had come from. It was like those words had pulled a string inside of him, triggering some memory long buried in his subconscious, something familiar but not within his grasp.

Alana noticed that her words, instead of cracking a smile, made his frown deepen, his expression alarmed.

"What is it?" she asked, her lips contracted out of worry. The question seemed to snap Will out of it, who shook his head a little, eyeing all around him, like he needed to realize where they were.

"Will?" she called him again, cupping both his cheeks with her hands, trying to get him to focus his gaze on her, for he had seemed lost for a moment. He finally looked at her, his expression nervous both for the touch and the thoughts that occupied his mind.

"I'm fine" he said, looking tired, rubbing his eyes after having taken his glasses off. Alana let him go after a few seconds, still eyeing him warily.

"You should go home, Will. You look exhausted."

"I didn't get much sleep lately, with the last case and stuff" he answered, putting his glasses back on, now rubbing his forehead.

"You know you can count on me, if you ever feel like having company" she said, her gaze never leaving his face. Will knew she didn't mean it in a romantic way, but since he felt attracted to her, he knew he wouldn't call her anyway. He'd rather call someone who wouldn't treat him like a yoyo, pulling him closer and pushing him away like she did.

Not wanting to make her feel bad though, Will smiled weakly, acting like taking up her offer. "I know" he answered.

She raised her hand to caress him again, making him feel even more eager to leave, for the situation between them was confused enough the way it was, even without the physical contact she always seemed to look for. As soon as her hand reached his cheek, he pulled away, trying not to look like he was avoiding her touch, although doing exactly so.

"Bye, Alana" he muttered as he grabbed his case and moved past her, heading to the exit, leaving her in the empty lecture hall. He felt a little bad acting like that, but he couldn't help it. The way she acted towards him didn't actually help him feel more stable, given that it was the reason why she didn't want to deepen their relationship: her behavior was actually being counterproductive, and bad for him.

Had she realized that? Will didn't think so, otherwise she wouldn't keep on acting that way. If she had, it would all be kind of sadistic of her, and he didn't think her capable of such. Pacing across the parking lot lost in his thoughts, Will reached his car, got in and started the engine. He drove absent-mindedly all the way to his house, reviving their meeting in his head, wondering.

As he got home, his head was aching. Thinking too much about a solution-less matter wasn't going to take him anywhere near solving it, so he better let it go, at least for now. His dogs greeted him as usual as he entered, and he patted them all before laying on his bed still fully clothed, eyes closed, his hands tiredly rubbing his face.

_Is this your happy face?_

The words echoed in his ears as he drifted to sleep.


	2. Chapter 2

**Hello everyone! Hannibal, as we all know, is now on he-ate-us (I LOVE cannibal puns XD) so I tried to ease the pain by continuing this ff :) hope u like it!**  
**As always, reviews and critics are much much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.**

**Enjoy :D**

"Is this your happy face?"

Will heard a low laugh, coming from the man riding next to him, their bodies following the horses' pace. He then glanced at the long-haired man who had spoken and felt a grin creeping up on his face, not being able to contain it, recognizing this was not the time to be frowning but to rejoice, their long-awaited freedom waiting for them just around the corner.

"Galahad, do you still not know the Romans? They won't scratch their arses without holding a ceremony" the man continued, his blond beard and long messy hair shining in the afternoon sun, the shadow of a mocking grin on his lips. Will recognized that name as his, Galahad, and understood that that joke was directed at him, to keep up the good mood. He knew the man, it felt like he knew him, a brotherly-like feeling lingering in the way they acted and spoke to each other.

"Why don't you kill him, and then discharge yourself after?" The rugged and hirsute man spoke to him, seriously considering his own suggestion. His voice seemed to resound inside his chunky body, coming out low and thunderous despite his poor height.

"I don't kill for pleasure," Will answered, then glanced at the man now riding on his left "unlike some."

"Well, you should try it someday." This man was lean, his black hair falling over his dark eyes in a few messy locks, two black marks on his cheekbone, his voice silky. "You might get a taste for it." He looked at him in the eyes, locking them together in a long, intimate stare. Will found himself at loss of words, captured as he was.

"It's a part of you." The chunky man inadvertently interrupted their speechless exchange, making Will break their eye-contact, a little taken aback, and allowing the dark mysterious man to ride past them. "It's in your blood" he continued, trying to sound wise.

"No, no, no" Will answered quickly, cutting off the idea before even considering it, laughing briefly. He looked at his companions in the faces, before continuing. "No. As of tomorrow, this was all just a bad memory." And he truly wished so.

"Ohh" his low voice rumbled as Will hurried his horse, making it fasten its pace to join the man with the dark eyes, who was now riding alone behind their leader.

As he caught up, Will slowed the horse down pulling slightly the reins, petting it on the neck before looking at him. This man reminded him of someone, his voice, his eyes weren't knew to him, but he couldn't figure out who. He glanced back at Will, his expression not really revealing what was going on in his mind. Their white horses harmonized their paces as the riders kept looking at each other, not saying a word, while the chatters of the other knights continued in the background. Will finally broke the silence, looking around a little flustered before returning to him.

"Where will you go, Tristan, once it's all over?" he asked, finding it difficult to take his eyes off him.

"I'm not the kind to settle down and make a family" Tristan answered short after, his eyes looking up at the sky. "I am made for battle, it sings to my blood."

"Once you get tired of it, come visit me."

"I will die on the battlefield, of that I am certain."

Will stared hard at him, finding him difficult to decipher. He knew this man found pleasure in killing, his sword and skin getting stained by the enemies' blood, him being the only witness their last breath. He knew it well but couldn't understand it, for he had had enough battle and gore for a lifetime, and couldn't imagine wanting more.

As their horses kept pacing side by side, the two men stayed silent, only exchanging a few glances, their eyes drawing each other. There was something between them, Will could tell, something that kept creeping under his skin, making him feel uneasy in his company, but at the same time wanting to stay close to him. He wondered if the other felt the same, but by his glances there was no mistaking it.

It was strange for Will to feel drawn to a man he barely knew, even if it felt like he had known him forever, like they had shared much more than he could remember. Pondering all this, not knowing what else to say, he hurried his horse, surpassing him. Glancing over his shoulder, Will saw him whistle and stretch his arm out, waiting for his hawk to land. He then heard him talk to it in a low and tender voice, before turning to see how far the gate was. The clatter of the hooves on the dry land was accompanying them as they drove along the wall, it kept buzzing repeatedly in his ears, its noise growing louder and louder…

Will opened his eyes a little, not seeing anything in the dark, disturbed by the constant buzzing in his jacket. Rubbing his eyes, he took the phone out of its pocket and answered.

"Hello?" he said with a rusty voice, finding it hard to concentrate.

"Will? Where are you?"

"Who is this?" The voice on the phone sounded familiar.

"It's Doctor Lecter, Will. We had an appointment."

He sat up, now completely awake, eyeing his alarm clock for the time.

"Doctor Lecter, I am so sorry. I got home after my lecture but fell asleep almost instantly." Will's honest discomfort transpired in his voice, as he was genuinely sorry for having Hannibal waste time in his full-filled agenda.

"Don't mention it, Will. I called simply to make sure you were fine. I heard Jack had been keeping you quite busy lately."

"Yes, yes, he had. But that's no excuse-" he started, trying to apologize again.

"I said not to mention it. But since we haven't seen each other for over a week, I was wondering if you'd like to join me for dinner" Hannibal offered. Will took a moment to collect his thoughts before answering.

"Yeah, sure. If you don't mind having me."

"Certainly I don't. Is nine o'clock a good time for you?" he asked, polite as ever.

"It's perfect, thank you. I'll see you later then."

He threw his phone on the bed as soon as Hannibal hung up after greeting him, and buried his face in his hands, elbows shored on his knees. Was he completely losing it? He could remember some of the men from this dream in his other dream too, the one that had him crying in his sleep. What were those dreams? He had no control over them, there he did things he wasn't even capable of (he had never driven a horse in his life), and spoke of battles and swords and freedom like he knew exactly what it was all about.

Will stood up abruptly, as he figured out whose voice he had heard in his lecture hall in Alana's company: it was the blond-haired man's, the one who addressed him like a brother, like they had known each other for a very long time and were very close. He also knew his name, he had it on the tip of his tongue but couldn't manage to say it out loud. Why couldn't he remember the name of a man he had dreamt? Wasn't he a product of his own subconscious? Will had seen him in the other dream too, the one with the crowd on the hill, with the burning pyre and burial mounds. The chunky one too, he was there with them. However, it was his first time seeing the mysterious dark-haired man. Tristan was his name, he knew it, couldn't say _why_ he knew, he just did.

Will let himself fall again on the mattress, his image still fresh in his mind. He frowned, remembering the attraction he had felt towards him in the dream, the feeling lingering under his skin. His features remembered him of someone he knew, they were familiar and at the same time foreign, the sound of his silky voice still ringing in his ears.

He stood up again, trying to shake it all off him, and switched the lights on. He had to take a shower and get dressed: the analysis of those dreams would have to wait. Will rushed, not giving himself the time to think about anything: he had enough on his mind with his real life problems, he didn't need other strange dreams to be added to the list of the weird things in his life.

As soon as he was done, Will fed the dogs and petted them all before reaching for his car-keys and heading out. A full-hour long drive awaited him, enough time to get sick with his own thoughts.


	3. Chapter 3

**Hello everyone :D 4th day of the he-ate-us, and I can't help letting my mind roam! soooooo here's the result :) hope you like it! (I have something on my mind, just wait and see!)**  
**thanks everyone for reviews and follow/favourite marking so far! :)**

**As usual, reviews and critics are much much much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla**

**Enjoy :D**

Time passed quickly as he stared out of the windshield, streetlamps lighting up his skin as his car passed by, his mind wandering aimlessly somewhere else. The route was so familiar to him, for he had done it so many times before, that he didn't need to focus on his driving to get to Hannibal's place safely.

Sooner than he thought, he found himself in the neighborhood. Will parked in the first free spot he found, got off and walked up to the door. Before knocking, he tried uselessly to tame his messy hair, only to make it worse. With a light snort he gave up, taking his glasses away and putting them in his pocket. He then turned to the door, only to get startled: he was now looking at a rather amused Hannibal in the eyes, who had opened the door soundlessly while he was trying to tidy himself up. By his expression, Will could tell he had witnessed his vain attempts to fix his appearance, and blushed out of embarrassment, avoiding his stare.

"Glad to see you, Will. Please, come in" Hannibal said, the shadow of a smile never leaving his lips as he made way for him to enter, keeping the door open. He cleared his throat, brushing past him, and took off his coat.

"Please." He took the coat from Will's hands, motioning for him towards the dining room, rewarded with a flash of his smile. As he hung it in the foyer, Hannibal joined him.

"You look very elegant tonight."

Will laughed under his breath. This kind of appreciation, coming from a man constantly dressed in the most classy three-piece suits he had ever seen, sounded ridiculous. But given his usual attire he guessed he actually looked elegant, at least compared to his standards: he was wearing a dark green sweater under a black jacket, combined with a pair of dark jeans.

"I was out of lumberjack shirts" he joked, getting a hardly contained chuckle from Hannibal. He smiled too.

"I mean it. That color brings out your eyes." Will eyed him, a bit taken aback, for that compliment seemed a little too intimate for their relationship not to be a mockery. Hannibal hold his stare as long as he kept it fixed on him, his expression genuine, no sign of derision in his eyes.

"Well, thank you" he muttered, looking away and clearing his throat in embarrassment.

"Shall we?"

The dining table was beautifully set, with pale porcelain dishes making vivid contrast with the crimson tablecloth, fine silverware shining in the dim light of the candles, a full set of glasses gracefully placed. Will was astonished: Hannibal's fine taste showed up even in the little details.

"Hope you didn't go out of your way, preparing all this" said Will, looking at the beautifully looking dish that was placed in front of him right after he sat at the table.

"Not at all" he replied with a little smile before illustrating the dish's name, main ingredients and preparation, as he usually did when he had guests at his table. Will wondered if he did the same even when dining on his own, just for the pleasure of rewarding such refined recipes, not able to enjoy its taste without celebrating it first.

"Bon appétit" Hannibal said, waiting for Will to take the first bite before starting to eat himself. They enjoyed the dinner talking very little, savoring the taste of every course, such refined dishes it would have been a waste to spoil them with useless chatter. As they were done eating the dessert, Hannibal took the dirty plates to the kitchen, followed by Will who took both their goblets with him.

"So, how have you been lately?" he asked, refreshing the dishes under the running water of the faucet before setting them in the dishwasher.

"Fine, actually" Will answered, a bit surprised himself. "I haven't slept a lot lately, so no nightmares thankfully."

"You finally found some peace of mind."

"Not really" he murmured before taking a sip of his wine, sparkling Hannibal's interest, who glanced at him waiting for him to continue. He returned the glace and pondered brushing away the subject, but then sighed and had to give in.

"I've had a couple of dreams recently, connected to one another, but not like any other I've ever had."

"Tell me more about it."

"Usually in my dreams I am acting like somebody else, but am myself." Will stared at Hannibal in the eye, him knowing exactly what he was talking about, for he had talked abundantly about his dreams before. "But in these, I am stuck being someone else. I have no control on what I do, I'm like a first-person observer, but also the main actor. "

"Like you're impersonating someone else?"

"Yes, but even if I'm aware of it, my 'character' keeps on acting as he wants to. I can feel what he's thinking, or feeling…" He stopped talking, remembering the strange attraction he had felt towards the black-haired man named Tristan. He shook his head a little, deciding not to go there, not knowing how to explain it to Hannibal without making a laughing stock out of himself.

"The first of these dreams left me in tears as I woke up" Will confessed with a hushed voice, not looking at him. Hannibal stared, his expression indecipherable, wondering. He tapped his fingers on the glass of wine he was holding, and took a few steps around the counter isle, moving towards Will.

"What was it about?" Hannibal spoke softly, his eyes never leaving Will's face, almost trying to read his thoughts through his expressions.

"I was on a hill, with an enormous crowd, me being a part of it, and a couple of the men there I knew, and were also in the second dream, and we formed a big circle all around three people, everyone was looking at them but not me, no, I was looking at a burial mound, the one with the helm hanging on it, not the other one, not the burning pyre, the one with the helm. And as I stood there I couldn't help but feel pain, and sorrow, and grief for the loss of the person buried there, a person I don't even know, a person that probably doesn't even exist, 'cos it's all a fucking dream, and I can't get rid of this feeling, it's carved under my skin, still now I can't even-" He stopped abruptly his conceited speech as he felt his voice crack, eyes moistened, and put the glass on the counter, the back of his hand pressed against his quivering lips. Hannibal did the same and put a hand on his back, caressing him, trying to soothe whatever he was feeling, never taking his eyes off him.

Will breathed heavily onto his hand for a few moments, calming down, and rubbed away a tear that threatened to escape from the corner of his eye. He leaned on the fridge with his back, breathing deep as he closed his eyes, still avoiding his gaze.

"Sorry about this" he whispered, "I don't know what's gotten into me lately."

"No need to apologize, Will. I'm here to hear you out, if you're troubled" Hannibal said with affection, his hand now resting on his shoulder.

"What's happening to me?" Will asked staring at him, worry in his eyes. "First those memory gaps, now these creepy dreams… What's wrong with me? Am I going completely mad?"

They stared into each other's eyes, not moving, very close. After a few moments, Will felt a strange feeling in his belly, like a void just formed into his stomach, sucking everything in. He held his breath, captured, a warm feeling spreading in his chest. As he blinked, another face overlapped Hannibal's, leaving Will breathless. For a second he saw Tristan, and his heart skipped a beat.

"Tell me about the other dream" Hannibal said after a moment, while the other was glaring all around the room, trying to make sense of what he had just seen.

"No. No, no, no, no. No, I need to go home now, I really need to get some sleep. I am sleep-deprived, and these, _these_, are the side effects!" Will almost yelled, nearly hysterical, now shaking badly, drawing back, gesticulating wildly.

"Will- Will, Will, Will, calm down now" he said, trying con contain him.

"_Why did I see his face instead of yours_?" he screamed, wide-eyed.

"Will, wait. Whose face did you see?" Hannibal frowned, not understanding who he was referring to.

"I need to leave, _now_." He stormed out of the kitchen, took his coat and slammed the door after him, almost running to the car.

Hannibal stood where Will had left him, his mind running on empty.


	4. Chapter 4

**Hello there :D here's another chapter! Sorry for the long wait, but exams have no pity for us poor writers :(**  
**I kinda have to concentrate on my studies now so it might take a week or so until next update...but don't worry! I'll never leave a story unfinished, mark my words :D**

**Then again, I hope you enjoy this chapter and keep on reading till the very end of this story :)**  
**As usual, reviews and critics are much much much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla**

**Enjoy :D**

Will slammed the door behind him as he escaped from Hannibal's house. What the hell had happened in there? Why had he seen Tristan's face? Dreams were now overcoming reality?

He ran to his car holding the coat under his arm, not even caring about the cold; he rustled in his pockets with quivering hands, both from the agitation and the freezing temperature, looking for the car keys. Almost crying from frustration he emptied their contents on the car's roof, scattering coins, his medicines, slips of papers everywhere. Finally finding them, Will grabbed everything and, as he got in, saw Hannibal just outside the door, coming after him. He quickly started the engine and stomped on the accelerator, tires shrieking against the frozen asphalt, wanting to get away as fast as possible.

As he was driving away he glanced at the review mirror and saw Hannibal standing in the middle of the street, becoming smaller as got farther. His hands were trembling badly while gripping hard on the wheel, knuckles white, still numb from the cold. The skin on his face was burning hot now, cheeks red, his teeth chattering. He hadn't realized the temperature had dropped so much during the evening, as he had been warm and comfortable in the house, in his company.

He was sorry to leave Hannibal that way, him standing in the middle of the street in the freezing cold, looking at him while he was driving away…it made him really felt bad. But he needed to be alone, he needed time to think, to try to figure out what was going on inside of his head, for it really was upsetting him now. He could handle the dreams, those strange dreams he had no idea where they'd come from, but seeing them in his reality, fragments of them overlapping things and people in his life was too much for him. He felt himself crumbling, tripping and falling over the shattering ground, over the reality he tried to hold on with all his might.

A few pained sounds escaped his lips, making him sound like an panicked animal, hurt and trapped, with no way out of his own mind. Will slammed hard his hand against the wheel out of frustration, squeezing his eyes shut, taking out his rage for his own helplessness. Why was he so weak? He was always helping saving people, but why couldn't he manage to help his own self?

When he opened his eyes a second later, his breath stopped. A dark, enormous stag, now brightly illuminated by his car's lights, stood in the middle of the road, his head turned towards him, his shining black eyes staring at him. Will swerved abruptly, avoiding it by a hair's breadth, his heart slamming in his throat, the shrieking of his car's tires deafening him. Stomping now on the brake, trying to stop, the rear started spinning, the tires losing grip on the icy asphalt. Having no control, he kept gripping hard on the wheel as the world spun out of the windshield, stiff, squeezing his eyes shut and clenching his teeth as he prepared for the impact.

It all happened in the blink of an eye. The car stopped his mad spinning against a tree standing on the side of the road with a loud crash, the force of the impact hitting him violently, throwing him against the dashboard and the door and back to the seat like a broken doll, and in an instant it all was still.

Will blinked rapidly, breathing heavily through his mouth, the ring in his ears getting louder and louder. He turned his head slightly glancing out of the cracked windshield, his sight blurring, the last thing he saw being the stag's shape loomed in the moonlight before it all went dark.

Hannibal had been pacing back and forth in his house since Will had left, restless. What he had told him, those dreams, the feeling of being trapped in a character, he knew very well for he had experienced it himself many many years before, so long ago he had been taken off guard by the sudden mention of it all.

He tapped on the counter with his fingertips, trying to recall his own dreams, the memory of them stocked somewhere in his mind but not lost. He had been having similar dreams when he was younger, dreams of a time long gone, where he wasn't born yet, but vivid in his mind like he had lived through 'em. Kind of ironic that, out of everyone, Will was starting to get similar dreams. Of course he had known from the start how alike they were, that's why he had become interested in the man in the first place, but these dreams now had stirred in him a curiosity beyond any he had ever had towards anyone. Will Graham was a puzzle that he had yet to figure out, and this thing about the dreams was like a piece he hadn't noticed before, maybe the key of the whole solution.

He needed more details, but with Will's sanity shattering he needed to be careful. First thing, Hannibal had to show concern about his wellbeing, for he needed him to feel sorry and in need to owe him an explanation. With a little push, Will would eventually tell him everything, helping him retrieve his own dreams and put all the elements together, in order to see the entire picture.

He reached for his phone, dialed Will's cellphone number and waited for him to pick up. Since he didn't, he called him a second, a third, a fourth time, but still no answer, no matter how long he waited. Hannibal frowned while the line got interrupted again, starting to worry. It was not like Will to avoid his calls.

He glanced at his watch. It had been only 30 minutes or so since Will had left in a hurry, he should still be on the way home, so why wasn't he picking up?

An unpleasant feeling started creeping up in Hannibal's belly as he put his phone on the counter, placing his palms against its smooth and cold surface. Will was very agitated when he had rushed out of his house and had not considered stopping even after seeing him chasing him. Had he been in the state of mind to drive home safely? He wasn't sure about that, that's the main reason why he had tried to stop him, along with his burning curiosity about those dreams. Now, with him not picking up his calls, Hannibal was starting to feel worried.

He paced back and forth for a few minutes, weighting his thoughts, then swiftly put on his coat, grabbed cellphone and keys, and got to his car.

A low ring kept drilling through his ears as he slowly came back to his senses. Opening his eyes lightly, Will looked around him trying to focus, taking a few moments to realize what had happened and where he was. He winced as he tried to move, a sharp pain piercing his head. Gritting his teeth, he sat up straight, touching his forehead and wincing again before looking at his hand, now wet with his own blood, shining black and bright in the white light of the moon.

How much time had passed? He had no idea. His head was pulsing, his whole body aching, his teeth chattering for the cold. He wrapped his arms around him, rubbing the hands against the fabric of the jacket, trying to ease the shivers that made him tremble. The ring kept on going in the background, and it took him a few moments to recognize it as his own ringtone. Slowly, he reached for the phone in his coat's pocket, took it out and answered.

"Hello?" he said with a voice he almost didn't sound as his own.

"Will? Why didn't you pick up my calls? I've been calling you for hours" Hannibal's voice sounded hurried and a little alarmed.

"I crashed, I- I think I passed out"

"Are you hurt? Where are you?"

"No, no, I'm fine, I just…Hannibal" His name sounded like a cry for help.

"Tell me where you are, Will. Did you take an alternative route or are you on the main road?"

"The usual one"

"I'm coming, Will. Don't move, stay where you are, I'm coming."

"Hannibal" Will didn't know why he kept on calling him, he couldn't help himself, his name just kept escaping from his mouth.

"I'm here, Will. Don't worry, I'll be there in a few minutes."

"Hannibal, I'm sorry" He didn't even know what he was apologizing for, his head was starting to spin again, he couldn't stay focused.

"Shh Will, it's okay, I'm almost there."

"Hannibal" he whispered with closed eyes as the phone slipped from his numb fingers, his head resting against the window, his breaths echoing in his ears.


	5. Chapter 5

**Hello everyone! ...shhhhhh I know what I've said about my exams and not update the fic for a week and blablabla...but when you feel creative what do you have to do? write, that's it XD**

**I had to do a little research for this chapter, about the knight's religion: in the movie it's said a few times that they're pagans and follow their ancestors' faith, sooooo...for further explanation feel free to ask, just know that I haven't made up anything but tried to stay true to the hystorical facts :)**

**thank you for the reviews so far! Even though I *almost* never answer, don't worry, I read and rejoice every of them :)**  
**as always, reviews and critics are much much much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla**

**Enjoy :D**

"_Rus!_"

Bors' voice thundered in his ears as they all moved closer to their leader, the man in shining armor, the half-roman half-celtic knight Arthur. He was about to leave when he had been spotted by his companions, making him turn to face them, interrupting the long awaited party they were holding for their upcoming freedom. The grave expression on his face should have been a warning, but they all were too happy and too drunk to pay any attention to it, forcing him to put into words the weight he was carrying on his shoulders since his last talk with the Bishop, the same man who should have freed them already.

"Knights" he called them, his voice solemn. "Brothers in arms. Your courage has been tested beyond all limits…"

"Yes" Bors agreed, his big head nodding.

"…but I must ask you for one further trial."

"Drink" someone said, and they all chuckled, the mood light and bubbly.

"We must leave on a final mission for Rome before our freedom can be granted." Arthur looked at them all, some returning the gaze, others still laughing. "Above the wall, far in the north, there is a Roman family in need of rescue."

Will felt the laugher die in his throat. Arthur's words didn't sound like a joke anymore.

"They are trapped by Saxons" he continued, holding their stares. "Our orders are to rescue their safety."

"Let the Romans take care of their own."

"Above the wall is Woad territory" stated his blond friend near him, as if it was enough information to avoid further talk about the matter.

"Our duty to Rome, if it ever was a duty, is _done_." Will said spitting the last word, disgusted, feeling the rage mounting in his lungs, making him sick. "Our pact with Rome is done."

"Every knight here has laid his life on the line for you. For _you_" Bors repeated, pointing his stubby finger at their leader, his voice getting louder. "And instead of freedom, you want more blood? _Our_ blood?"

Will looked away, not capable of looking at any of them any longer, he felt burning fury building up inside of him, making his upper lip quiver as he tried to contain it. How could _he_ ask this of them? A trial more dangerous than any other they had ever encountered? This was supposed to be the day when they could finally take a hold of their precious long awaited freedom, and instead they were offered more blood, more gore and death. This was more than he could take, more than any of them could. He heard Bors' and Arthur's voices rumble in the background, but he was deaf to their words, for he had heard enough.

"_I am a free man_!" Bors' voice shouted, snapping Will out of his thoughts, as he was not talking only for himself, but talking for them all. "I will choose my own fate!" His eyes gleamed with tears, the tears of a man whose most dear belonging had been taken from his hands a second after he had finally succeeded in grabbing it, after years and years of suffered longing.

"Yeah, yeah." Will glanced briefly at Tristan, who was still eating the apple in his hands, his silky voice nonchalant ad he talked, like the matter didn't concern him. "We're all going to die someday. If it's a death from a Saxon that frightens you," he glanced at the others while talking, his eyes challenging them, "stay home."

"Listen, if you're so eager to die, you can die right now!" Will burst out shouting, not being able to contain his rage anymore, looking back at him, letting his anger spill with every word he said. Those words were an insult, it wasn't fear that made them react that way at this new quest, it was the feeling of betrayal they all felt for their once again denied freedom. It was their right, it was promised to them 15 years ago, and now that it was within their grasp it had been taken away, out of their reach.

"Enough, enough!" Lancelot tried to tame him, to contain his erupting anger, only to be shoved away.

"_I have something to live for_!" He screamed on top of his lungs looking at Arthur in the eyes, meaning every single word.

"The Romans have broken their word. We have the word of Arthur. That is good enough. I'll prepare." Dagonet was a man of few words, but the few ones he pronounced were filled with loyalty towards their leader. It was difficult to say if he was angry or disappointed, Will couldn't tell, for he never showed much of an emotion, even in a matter of high importance as this one.

"Bors. You coming?" he asked as he met him while moving away from the group.

"Of course I'm coming! Can't let you go on your own! You'll all get killed!" Bors shouted back at him, his words following Dagonet as he paced towards his lodgings followed by Tristan who, having spoken his mind, had lost interest in further discussion of the matter.

"I'm just saying what you're all thinking!" he added now in their direction, before stomping away from them, muttering under his breath.

Will was still standing there, barely looking at Lancelot or Arthur, stubbornly refusing to accept the reality, his eyes fixed angrily on the ground. Gawain moved closer, taking a sip of wine from his amphora.

"And you, Gawain?"

"I'm with you" he replied. Then, after glancing at his friend, added "Galahad as well", making Will turn to look at him abruptly, before going. He watched him take a few steps, heading out, then laughed bitterly at Arthur and at their own fate, emptying the amphora he was holding on the ground while looking at him in the eyes.

Not sure what would escape his mouth, Will kept it closed tight letting his feelings show through his gestures: he threw the jar on the ground, smashing it, feeling angry and crestfallen. He looked one last time at their leader, conveying all his bitterness and resentment in his stare, then turned and made his way past Galwain, not saying a word to him, not talking to anyone, heading to his lodgings.

As soon as he entered, he started gathering his things, the same he had unpacked a few hours earlier. In the dim light of the candles he tried to keep himself busy, trying to avoid any thought, feeling his rage still lingering deep inside, ready to burn again, to swallow him. It was all so unfair. They were free. _Free_. He didn't like that Roman, Bishop Germanius, hadn't liked him since they had met him after slaying all those Woads. He had looked so smug and arrogant, so proud of the slaughter he was stepping upon. A man like him wasn't to be trusted, that's what he had first thought of him, now he knew why.

Picking up a dagger Will stopped moving, breath lingering, looking at his own reflection on the water bowl next to his bed, seeing a very angry man returning his gaze, a man whose eyes were filled with anger and delusion. Looking away, his glace stopped on the dagger he was holding as he weighted it in his hands for a few moments, then threw it with rage on the wooden wall, screaming, the blade sinking into it. Panting lightly, his face contracted in a deep frown, he stared hard at it, and winced when another one thrust on his dagger's back of the handle. Will then turned to see a dark haired man standing in the entrance, his brown eyes looking at him behind the messy strands of his black hair.

"Tristan" he called, surprised to see him in his room. He just stood there, leaning on the side, his eyes fixed on him, making Will wonder why was he there. Feeling a bit uneasy, he started roaming through his stuff again, avoiding eye-contact.

"Shouldn't you be preparing?" he asked, without looking at him.

"You're coming too, huh?"

Will's breath stopped. His silky voice came from way closer than he expected, but he dared not to turn and face him. Shaking the feeling off, he laughed bitterly, spite still lingering under his skin.

"I don't have a choice, have I?"

"Yet you seem very reluctant about it."

"Who would willingly accept a quest that implies almost certain death?"

"You know, death isn't the end of everything. Our soul survives, it rejoins the _fravashi_, and one day we'll live again."

Will scoffed under his breath. He knew well what their ancestor's religion stated, and what was in store for their souls: they had sinned in this life, therefore weren't allowed to find eternal peace returning to Ahura's bosom but had to reincarnate, in order to purify their immortal soul and wear off their past lives' sins. Even so, he didn't like the thought of ending this life before its time.

"Our souls will live again…not us" he whispered almost to himself.

"Isn't it the same?"

His voice gave him the chills, it felt like a caress on his skin. He had moved even closer now, he could feel his proximity, not knowing how, but he felt him near him. Will then turned to face him, not being able to avoid him anymore, and met his eyes only a few inches from his, holding his breath. He didn't expect him to be _this close_.

The right side of Tristan's face was partially lit by the warm light of the candles, illuminating his sharp features, lighting up his cheekbones, making his eyes shine with warmth.

Will couldn't look away, their eyes were locked together in an infinite exchange that didn't need words. They stood there like that for a long time, longer than he could imagine, because when Tristan finally moved the candles were almost worn out, their dim flames barely lit. His hand came up to his cheek, cupping it, caressing it with force, possessively, his eyes now looking insistently at his mouth. Will's lips parted under his stare, his pulse accelerated under his touch.

Tristan seemed to bare his teeth in a brief growl, before moving closer, the gap between their lips becoming thinner and thinner…


	6. Chapter 6

**Swiggity swag, where is the stag? ehhehehehe hello everyone :D here's another chapter! we're heading to conclusion, but there's still a lot of time before we get there ;) so, enjoy your stay!**

**As usual, thanks everyone for reading/liking/commenting this fic :3 further reviews and critics are much much much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla**

**Enjoy :D**

"Will! Will, can you hear me?"

Will slowly came back to his senses, blinded by a bright light pointed right in his eyes, one forcefully opened after the other. He raised a hand, covering them, annoyed.

"Will, answer me. Can you hear me?"

He slightly opened his eyes, blinking rapidly, trying to focus, to see anything in the dark that surrounded him, but it took him a few moment to regain his sight, obscured by all the dark dots that kept appearing wherever he looked.

"Will?" A warm caress, a light touch on his frozen skin, hand cupping his cheek. A familiar feeling.

"Tristan" Will whispered, looking at him, barely seeing his face in the dark.

"It's Hannibal, Will" he replied after a few seconds, his voice deadly still.

"Hannibal?" He felt so confused, had to blink a couple times before actually recognizing his psychiatrist's face. "Hannibal" he said, eyes fixed on him like he was seeing his face for the first time.

"Yes Will, I'm here. How are you feeling?"

"I don't know." His eyes had a hard time staying open, his head was fuzzy, his whole body aching.

"You probably had a concussion, but doesn't seem to be anything worse. Even so…"

"Ah!" Will winced, shrinking back on the seat, as he felt a sharp pain piercing his skull.

"You have a deep cut on your forehead, it needs a few stitches."

"Where am I?"

"You don't remember?"

"I'm… not sure."

"You crashed a few miles after leaving my house. You don't remember how it happened?"

Will looked as lost as he felt. His eyes kept wandering aimlessly, looking at the surroundings, trying to figure out something, anything. "No" he admitted in the end, defeated.

"Come, I'll take you back to my house. If your condition worsen, I'll take you to the hospital immediately." As soon as he opened his mouth to protest, Hannibal silenced him. "No arguing."

Will puffed, giving up. He let him help him out of the car, climbing his way out of the vehicle, not really stable on his feet. He found out soon enough that he was frozen to the core, not having his coat on, having laid for God knows how long in his wracked car, glass of the windows cracked open, chilly night's wind entering. His teeth were chattering, his whole body was shaking with tremors as Hannibal led him to his own car and settled him in the passenger seat, the heating blowing warm air on his stiffened limbs. Will sighed in relief, enjoying fully the warmth, his head still fuzzy. Soon after, Hannibal got in the car, carrying Will's coat, which he laid on him like a blanket.

"Hannibal, there's no need-" he groaned.

"_Shut up, Will_."

His commanding voice surprised him a little. Will eyed him, not uttering another word as he started the engine, not having ever heard him use such a tone when talking to him. The car got into motion, and a second later they were heading back to Baltimore.

Will wrapped himself in his coat, the shivers gradually fading, his hands not numb anymore, all while stealing side-glances at Hannibal, who had kept quiet himself after having silenced him. As time passed, he felt the mutism becoming quite oppressing. Hannibal seemed angry despite his blank expression, but he couldn't understand what he could be mad about, and dared not ask. The trip back seemed to him way longer than it actually was.

When they finally arrived, after parking the car, Hannibal quickly got off and came to his side, opening the door for him and helping him out. Will let him lead him in and couldn't bring himself to open his mouth, for he was actually taken aback by his psychiatrist's behavior, also a little intimidated. He had never seen him like this, so authoritarian and grave.

He followed Hannibal's lead like a child who's being brought to his room after having misbehaved, which was silly because he didn't do anything to feel guilty about, but even so he didn't dare to argue. Will was brought to the kitchen and settled on a stool, Hannibal returned soon after, carrying his fist-aid kit. He prepared what he needed to patch him up, then stood in front of him.

"Stay still."

And so Will did. He sat still while Hannibal cleaned his face from the blood and disinfected the wound, even if it burned like hell when he did, clenching his fists and keeping his gaze fixed on him. He felt his fingers touching him with care, leaving warm traces on his skin as ke took care of him, gentle with every gesture. But his emotionless expression had something he had never seen in him, like a note in a tune that doesn't sound right but you can't really spot in the score.

When he was done, he cleaned up everything and started packing the kit back.

"Thanks." Will received no response. "Why are you mad?" he asked sheepishly, needing a few moments to find the courage to speak up.

"Why would I be?" he answered, not looking at him.

"I don't know. You look like you stepped on a thorn or something."

Hannibal eyed him with the same expression he had been carrying since his rescue, before returning to stuff things into the kit.

"I'm not mad."

"Then what's the matter? As far as I recall, I was the one who got into an accident. Yet you're acting like it was my fault" Will said, a bit resented.

"You left in a mental state that made it unsafe for you to drive, it made you reckless."

"Hey, it's not like I played Fast and Furious or anything, alright?"

Hannibal turned to look at him in the eyes, dead serious.

"You crashed into a tree. I called you a dozen times before you finally picked up, and then you pass out in the middle of the call. Do you have any idea how worried I was?" He did sound angry.

"I'm sorry about that. But I didn't run into the tree because I was speeding, I just-"

Will stopped talking midsentence, widening his eyes like he just got slapped. It had all come back to him in a second, the stag, the dream, everything, like a cold shower.

"The stag. There was a stag on the road, standing right there, looking at me! I had to swerve to avoid it, I couldn't help it, the car lost control…" He said, frantically looking around, then his gaze went back to Hannibal. "I had a _beard_" Will said with emphasis, eyes wide, sounding like he had just discovered the cure for cancer.

"…a beard" Hannibal repeated, looking at him.

"Yes!"

"Will, you _have_ a beard." He sounded like he was talking to some psychiatric case.

"No, no, no, not this I-forgot-to-shave-this-morning beard, more like _a month old _beard."

"I am afraid you've lost me."

"My strange dreams, the ones where I'm trapped in my character, you remember them right? Well after the crash, when I passed out while on the phone with you, I had _another one_. I saw my reflection. It was me, with longer hair and beard, but it was definitely me. And I was mad, God, I was so mad, because me as well as the other knights were about to finally be freed from our duty, but then another mission was casted upon us, and our leader couldn't back off, he had to interrupt our celebration to tell us, and we just couldn't believe it!"

It sounded all absurd even to his own ears, but that didn't stop him from talking, saying every little thing he could remember from the most recent dream, almost afraid it could disappear from a moment to another.

"This time I got a few names. Our leader was Arthur, among the others I remember Bors, Gawain, Dagonet, Lancelot," he hesitated for a second before continuing, "Tristan… and me, I was Galahad. We also talked about Romans, Bishop Germanius was the one supposed to free us, but he broke his word and commanded this other quest, to rescue a roman family threatened by Saxons… we were also worried about the Woads."

Looking at the ground, trying to focus and see if he could extrapolate anything else from his memory of the dream, Will wasn't aware of the look Hannibal was giving him. His expression was indecipherable, but there was a sparkle in his eyes, something burning deep inside.

When Will finally lifted his gaze on him, they exchanged the longest look before he started talking again.

"Look, I know I sound crazy, but I swear, it was all so _real_, it seemed more like a memory than a dream-"

"Will" Hannibal called him, his voice low and hoarse, almost sensual.

"Yes?" He swallowed hard before answering.

"Do you realize you're talking about King Arthur and the knights of the round table?"


	7. Chapter 7

**I am SO SO SO sorry it took me so long to update! But, ya know, it being summer and all...I got too caught up relaxing and stuff! bear with me!**

**As usual, reviews and critics are much much appreciated!**

**Disclaimer: I don't own anything and blablabla.**

**Enjoy :D**

"What?"

Hannibal kept his gaze fixed on him without answering.

"King Arthur?" repeated Will, staring at him in disbelief.

"Yes."

"_The_ King Arthur?"

"I believe there's only one."

"But it's a fairytale" stated Will, still eyeing him. The corners of Hannibal's mouth titled upwards a little at the expected answer, his gaze moving to the first-aid kit and taking a moment before returning to Will.

"Everyone has at least once heard of King Arthur and his brave Knights. Only few know that the legend is actually inspired by an existent historical figure."

They exchanged a long stare, Will's eyes wide, trying to extrapolate from the psychiatrist's expression any sign of derision, having never heard of this true story behind the myth, Hannibal's eyes steady, locked with his, calm and confident as always.

"With this real Arthur, there doesn't happen to be also a Galahad, or any of the other knights, by any chance?"

Hannibal observed him: Will's posture suggested disbelief and curiosity, reluctant to believe such a story but wanting to hear more of it nonetheless.

"Yes Will, that happens to be the case" he replied, making him freeze right where he sat on the stool.

Will blinked a few times, his eyes frantically looking all around, trying not to let his thoughts wander off to easy but not believable conclusions. Those words seemed to imply much more than they meant, suggesting a road he refused to take, to even acknowledge because of its ridiculousness and insanity.

Even so, he found himself wanting to hear more about it, wanting to find inconsistencies with the dreams he had had in order to allow him to brush the ridiculous idea that was now nudging him aside, but at the same time desperately wanting to find a reasonable explanation for the overlapping reality and for those weird dreams his subconscious gave birth to. All considering, neither option was preferable, both implying that he was going insane, this time for real.

Given the silence that followed his last sentence, Hannibal was in no hurry to tell further details, instead leaving his last words linger in the room and sink in Will's mind. He could almost see the chaotic rummaging of his thoughts, his restless eyes darting all over the floor being proof of it, as well as his deepening frown. Smirking a bit to himself, he pondered leaving him with only this much information, and call it a night. He was, after all, suffering from a concussion from the crash, even if he seemed fine enough.

"Let's talk about this tomorrow, Will. For the time being, you need to rest."

Will's eyes darted up meeting Hannibal's firm gaze, pushing his chaotic thoughts aside.

"Wait, no, I-" He shut his mouth as Hannibal lifted his hand, silencing him.

"No Will, you almost surely have a concussion. Even if you feel fine right now, your body needs to rest and recover."

"My body is _fine_" he almost whined, huffing a bit. Hannibal looked at him like a parent looking at his whiny kid who doesn't want to go to bed yet.

"Will" he said in a commanding tone that admitted no reply. Will gave in, snorting a bit more, standing up and walking out of the kitchen, following his lead toward the stairs.

Hannibal made way, walking ahead of him but glancing every now and then over his shoulder, making sure Will was following and ready to catch him if he were to falter. He led him to a bedroom, its king-size bed covered in dark classy coverlet, the white sheets immaculate, a sober chandelier hanging from the ceiling, the soft light grazing the furniture in a yellowish caress.

Will put a hand on the coverlet, following with his fingertips the intricate pattern, appreciating its softness.

"I will come and check on you during the night, wake you up if I feel there's a need. The bathroom is right there. Call me if there's anything you need."

Will turned around, noticing that Hannibal had brought him nightclothes and towels.

"Thank you but please, don't mind me."

"As a doctor and a friend, it is my duty and pleasure." Hannibal smiled a bit, moving to the door. "Now rest, Will. Sleep well."

"Thank you, Doctor Lecter. Goodnight." And with a click of the door, he was alone.

After a moment, feeling a bit uncomfortable in an unfamiliar bedroom, Will went to the bathroom turning the light on and looking at his reflection in the mirror above the sink. He brushed his hair to the side to take a better look at the cut on his forehead, touching it lightly with the tips of his fingers, hissing at the slight feeling of burn. It was a long cut, right below his hairline, but he noticed that Hannibal's bandaging was flawless, and probably had to thank medical school for that.

Letting his hand drop and his hair fall back in place in its usual untidy locks, Will sighed heavily, his reflection sighing with him. He had possibly never looked worse, he almost looked like a ghost, pale skin and wide eyes, dark bags under them. He turned the water on and splashed some on his face, meeting his eyes in the mirror, drops running down his neck and hanging on his eyelashes. He squeezed his eyes shut, passing his hands on his face, drying himself up a bit.

He blinked a few times before his breath stopped in his lungs, his mouth slightly open in surprise. For a second there he thought he had seen someone else staring back, someone whose face he had seen once, reflected in a water bowl, lighted up by the candlelight. Someone with _a month-old beard_. Now there was only him, a very startled and tired version of him, but definitely him, reflected in the mirror.

"I am going completely insane" he muttered to himself, too tired to panic over it, simply brushing this episode aside and moving towards the bed, turning the light off as he exited the bathroom. He carefully removed his clothes but did not touch the ones Hannibal had placed on the drawer, knowing he would drench them in sweat during the night, opting to sleep only in his boxers and undershirt, even if it meant that the following morning he'd have to wear the sweater on his bare skin.

He sank in the bed, tucking the sheets and duvet tight around him, and switched the light off, the room now engulfed in the dark, and closed his eyes. His head felt light, and ached a bit, probably from the concussion but also from his too many thoughts. He let out a shaky breath, now starting to feel his body aching all over, a dull pain coming from every muscle he had, the exhaustion flooding over him and swallowing him whole, the ache fading as he drifted in a deep sleep.

Flashes of battlefield grounds, swords clattering, blood spilling, voices screaming filled his vision before fading into nothing.

The taste of wine filled his mouth, laugher ringed in his ears, familiar faces surrounded him, then it all blurred away.

Then felt lips moving hungrily on his own, teeth scraping on his lover lip, kissing him deep, like he wanted to eat him up, barely allowing him to breathe. As startled as he was, Will was barely responding to it, the sensation overwhelming. Firm hands were keeping him there, cupping his cheeks, not allowing him to move away. He felt his blood rush through his body, warming his skin, making his heart bump loud in his chest.

The other broke the kiss, making him gasp for air and open his eyes abruptly, the sudden loss leaving him hanging. In the dim light he met a pair of brown eyes a few inches away, staring hungrily, almost famished, behind a few dark strands of hair.

Will was frozen in place, his eyes wide, staring back, like a deer in the headlights.

Tristan let his eyes drop to the floor and bowed his head a little, letting out a trembling breath. He locked their gaze one last time before turning way, his hands leaving his cheeks, the hot feeling of his touch still lingering on his skin, and in a second he was gone.

Will stumbled forward, mouth slightly open, breath rushed, not really realizing what just happened. Then it all faded to black.


End file.
